


Neighbors

by Goodbye_YellowBrick_Road



Category: Rocketman (2019), Rocketman (2019) RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:41:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27558529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goodbye_YellowBrick_Road/pseuds/Goodbye_YellowBrick_Road
Summary: Bernie Taupin had had enough of the farm life, and had moved into the big city to start anew.Elton had had enough of his parents and their plans for how his life should go.Two bachelors living across the hall from each other.  What could possibly go wrong?
Relationships: Elton John/Bernie Taupin, Elton John/John Reid
Kudos: 13





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This story will start slow, but it will all come together soon enough, I promise.

He stood on the balcony, staring down at the crowds of people ringing in the new year, a cigarette hanging from his lips. He knew his girlfriend would be searching for him, wondering why he hadn’t sought her out for the ceremonial kiss by now. He couldn’t bring himself to find her, though. He was quite happy standing alone among a hoard of strangers brooding... 

Truth be told, he would much rather be at home in bed alone, rather than at this party with people he barely knew, nevermind with his girlfriend of just three months, but it was it was, he supposed. 

He took a long pull from his bottle of lager.

He was hidden in the shadows, couples milling about around him, celebrating with such good cheer it made him sick. Another year gone! What will this year bring?, he heard one lad ask his lady beside him. Nothing but happiness!, was her reply, before he pulled her in for a long kiss. 

He took a long drag of his cigarette, grumbling under his breath.

He had tried for years to be one a lad like him. He had tried for years to be normal. He had caged the animal within and went on courting different girls, much to his mother’s shock and his father’s pride. His latest girlfriend, Penny, was one whom in another life, another time, might have been the one he was destined to marry. If he could find it within himself to deny his true being, that was. But he couldn’t, not really. No matter how hard he tried.

He finished what was left in the bottle, and tossed it in the bin by the doors.

He wished he could be adamant as the lad’s lady that this year would bring nothing but happiness, he thought as he weaved his way out of the crowded apartment. But he knew no matter which way he decided to live his life, it would be nothing but pain. Whether he continued to cage the animal and lived his life by his father’s standards, or he released the animal and lived his life as his true self, he would only find pain and heartbreak.

Confused and torn, and just a bit intoxicated, Elton left Penny at the party to find her own way home. He knew should feel bad about it, but couldn’t bring himself to care. 

That was when he knew. That was when he knew which road to take. 

The road to ruin.

***********

Bernie Taupin was at the edge of manhood when he left his familys’ farm to start anew. Factory work seemed much more his style than carting dead chickens around did… He worked hard during the day and wrote poems at night, having no idea just what those words might bring him, but having no one to spend time with in the big city it made the evenings seem less lonely. 

London proper was always bustling with excitement and for the down home country boy, it was exhausting. His small studio apartment housed just a few items he had found at the salvation army when he first made it into the city; a loveseat he used as his bed, a beat up coffee table in which housed his notebooks, pens, and warming pad for his tea kettle, and a small lamp. As soon as he made it home each day he set the kettle of tea on the warming pad and wrote under the lamp light. His parents begged of him to come home, that he was not living a very good life in the city, but he was quite happy with the life he had carved out for himself, thank you very much.

He heard cursing in the hallway and frowned. The apartment across from him had been vacant since he had moved in. No one should be in the hallway, especially at this hour, he thought as he checked his wrist watch. He got to his feet and walked to his door. He opened it and it saw a young man fumbling with a set of keys, a suitcase open beside him, clothes strewn all over the place.

“You alright, mate?,” Bernie asked, leaning against the doorframe, folding his arms across his bare chest, wishing he had the foresight to put on a shirt.

“Yeah, yeah, this stupid key will be the death of me, is all. I’m Elton,” he replied, turning around, a winning smile on his face, and Bernie felt his stomach flutter.

“Bernie.”

“Nice to meetcha,” Elton said, turning back to the door and finally turning the key. “Success! Well, I have a lot to do. It was nice meeting you, Bernie. Maybe we can have a lager or something another time. Have a good night!”

And with that he was gone. Bernie couldn’t help but stare at the closed door. 

His life just got interesting.


	2. Drinks and Poems

Elton looked around his sparsely furnished flat and frowned darkly. He placed his cigarette in the ashtray that sat upon the windowsill and fell upon his piano bench with an exaggerated huff. His old bedroom in Pinner had everything he could ever want and need, making his flat seem so  _ empty _ . 

He folded his arms across his chest. Leaving in the dead of night with only that in which he could carry made things a bit difficult when trying to decorate his flat with his limited income. Sure, the lads in Bluesology donated a number of things to make it habitable, and although he was thankful for that, the flat wasn’t quite  _ his _ ... Not yet at least, and he couldn’t figure out the missing pieces.

He got to his feet and took up his cigarette again. He took a long pull from it as he walked into the kitchen, pulling a lager from the refrigerator. He didn’t have practice, nor a gig, that evening and didn’t really know what to do with himself. Days off were pretty foreign for Bluesology now that they were backing Long John Baldry, afterall. He collapsed on the couch, opened the lager, and turned on the telly. His plan for the evening to watch silly infomercials and drink himself into oblivion.

_ And maybe tomorrow I’ll figure out what the hell this place needs to actually be my home, and not just my dwelling, _ he thought, taking a long pull from the bottle and wondering whether or not he should go ahead and buy the damn purse he was watching on the infomercial for his Nan.  _ After all, it’s fucking beautiful, and she’d love it, and she did nothing wrong. It’s my fucking folks that caused all the bloody drama.  _

_ I should ring her up tomorrow and check in. Let her know how well I am doing. Let her know I’m not dead in a ditch somewhere. Let her know I am finally taking her advice and living life on my own terms. Being the man I was destined to be, not the one I was molded to be.  _

He was bored. His life was a constant stream of motion, sitting still and being alone were not things he was used to anymore. He tilted his head to the side, wondering just what to do to remedy the situation, because getting drunk alone didn’t hold the same candle it once did. 

He wondered if his neighbor was home, and if he was interested in sharing a lager or two. He looked at the clock and saw it wasn’t really  _ that _ late, all things considered, and made up his mind. He stumbled to the refrigerator and pulled out the remaining four bottles, telling himself he would need to pick up more on the morrow, and made his way across the hall with a spring to his step.

Bernie answered the door in just a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and Elton couldn’t help but wonder in his drunken mind if the young man ever wore a shirt whilst at home. If he had the same toned physique Bernie did he probably wouldn’t either, truth be told. He felt rather hot around the collar when he asked, “How about that lager, mate?,” holding up the box in front of his flushed face.

“It’s eleven o’clock, Elton,” Bernie said, leaning against the door frame and folding his arms across his chest self consciously. He was certain he looked a fright, having been asleep for a few hours by now. 

He took in Elton’s state and sighed. Something about him made Bernie pause, feeling a strange need to look after him, even though he had only just met him. He could tell by his mannerisms he had led a rough life before now, tougher than he would admit to anyone. He opened the door fully. “Come in then. I don’t have much in the way of furniture so we’ll have to cozy up on the couch. I don’t have a telly, but I suppose we could chat it up for a bit. A lager sounds nice.”

“Brilliant!,” Elton exclaimed, walking into the flat. “And I thought my flat was empty!”

Bernie chuckled, running his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, I keep telling myself I should get some things and finally make this into a home, ya know? It’s not like I don’t have the pounds. It’s just… I don’t know. I  _ like _ not having much. It makes me thankful for what I do have. If that makes sense.”

“Ah… sure?,” Elton replied, scratching his head as he sat on the loveseat. “I guess that’s one thing we can mark off as a difference between us. I’m constantly bringing things into my flat because I feel like it’s missing something and I can’t figure out what! It’s driving me bonkers, mate, I swear it.”

Bernie laughed, opening two bottles and passing one to Elton. “I’m sorry to hear that, mate. I hear you sometimes in the hallway cursing at the things you are bringing in whilst I’m writing and I have to say you have some of the most colorful language I’ve ever heard, and I grew up in Lincolnshire.”

“I grew up in Pinner. We aren’t as straight laced as we appear to the public eye, I assure you,” Elton replied, sipping at the lager. “You write? Short stories? Novels? Poems?”

“Poems mostly. Some I set to music when the mood strikes me,” he said, nodding to his guitar. “But mostly I just write.”

Elton fought back a wave of excitement. “I write melodies on my keyboards, but I am rubbish at lyrics... Do you mind if I look over your poems sometime?” Bernie shifted a bit uncomfortably. “Sorry, sorry, you only just me and here I am asking to see your most personal effects… I…”

“No, no, Elton… It’s alright. I think it would be neat if you could set something to music. It would make it worth it, I think.” Bernie took a long pull from the bottle. “I do factory work. What do you do for a living right now?”

“I’m in a backing band at the moment. I hope one day to break free from it and become an independent artist, but I am not holding my breath on that front,” Elton replied. “I play the piano mainly, but have a keyboard I use for the band. Much easier to tote around.”

Bernie nodded. “Makes sense.”

“Right.” 

Bernie reached towards the coffee table and pulled his notebooks to him. “All four of these are filled with poems. I have many more stored in the closet from over the years. I guess just look them over and see if anything strikes your fancy, Elton.”

Elton took them almost reverently and set them on his lap. “I am honored you trust me with these, Bernie. I won’t let you down.”

They continued chatting well into the early hours of the morning, and Bernie wasn’t even too upset when he awoke with only 15 minutes to get ready for work. He could tell his boring life had changed forever by opening his door to Elton, and he couldn’t be happier with that decision.


	3. Chapter 3

Bernie turned off the tape player, a big grin splitting his face. He never imagined when he handed over his notebooks something so fucking _magical_ could be created from them. Something so heartfelt. So _real._ He rewound the tape and played it again, humming along to simple chords, the haunting melody. “‘Madman across the water’,” he said, nodding at the simple title. “Perfection.

He picked up the advert he found in the post once again. He had lost track how many times he had picked it up and set it down since he started playing the recording. Liberty records was looking for talent. And Jesus Christ, Elton whatever his last name was was fucking talented. 

The music shifted to a softer song, one he had written over breakfast one morning, a tea stain still on the top of the notebook if he remembered correctly. His attention went to the boombox he had bought just that morning rather than going into work. This would be a hit. This would be Elton’s breakthrough song. This would be what he needed to become an independent artist.

“‘How wonderful life is, now that you’re in the world’, indeed,” Bernie muttered, getting to his feet quickly, the advert clutched tightly in his hand. 

He rushed across the hall, leaving the music playing behind him, not even closing his own door in his rush. He knocked on the door, hoping Elton was home and not at a gig or practice, because _this_ was his destiny: not backing some wannabe RnB star. He knocked again when it wasn’t answered quickly enough.

“Bernie, mate? You, uh, you left your door open,” Elton said, through a big yawn.

“Don’t care, more important matters to discuss here. I listened to the tape. You have to go here,” Bernie said, shoving the advert into Elton’s chest. “Liberty Records is looking for talent. Elton, mate, you _are_ just what they are looking for. The songs… They’re amazing. Your voice is brilliant. Your chords are just what the words needed to thrive. You need to go. Go get dressed. Go now.”

Elton raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you supposed to be work?”

Bernie shrugged. “I used a sick day. I wasn’t feeling up to going in this morning.” He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. “Long story I’d rather not get into. What’s it matter what I’m doing anyway? Go get dressed, mate, and go, mate. It’s your destiny.”

“Okay, okay, slave driver…,” Elton grumbled, scratching his head. He tilted his head to the side. “You might want to go put on a shirt, Bernie. Telling me to go get dressed when you ain’t even ready. The nerve…”

Bernie furrowed his brow in confusion. “Why would I need to be ready?”

“Well, you’re coming with, ain’tcha? You wrote those songs, didn’tcha? Without you, I’d have no material. Now go get dressed and I’ll meet you out here in about twenty.” He went to close the door. “And Bernie? Take a shower. No offense, but you stink, mate.”

Bernie looked down and blushed. “Right-o on that.”

****************

“My name is Elton John, I am the musician, and this is Bernie…”

“Taupin.”

“Bernie Taupin, he writes the songs.”

Bernie looked at him quickly, searchingly, but Elton ignored him. He hadn’t expected any credit given to him. Sure, he had in the hallway, but here at the studio, he expected to be brushed to the side like he usually was at his actual job. Elton really was a standup guy, it seemed. The more he got to know him, the more he liked him. They just got on well with each other, like they had known each other their whole lives and not just the few chance meetings they had.

“Good good. Take a seat and Mr. Williams will be with you shortly.”

“Thank you,” they said in unison, before snorting.

*************

“Cheers, mate,” Elton said, popping the top off his beer.

“Cheers,” Bernie replied, tapping his beer against Elton’s.

“So…”

“So…”

“Do you think they actually liked me?”

Bernie looked at Elton and felt his heart break. The man looked so young Bernie only wanted to sweep him into his arms and hide him from the world. The processing at Liberty was painful, for both him and Elton. Ray Williams was a nice enough bloke, but he was not really _there_ during their interview. Dick James was a prickly bastard, but he seemed genuinely impressed with Elton’s talent and Bernie’s wordsmanship at such young ages. They were promised call backs, but whether they upheld their end of the bargain was something to be seen.

“I do, Elton. I really do,” Bernie replied, before taking a drink. “They have our phone numbers. I think we will be hearing back from them. Mr. Williams said there was something special about us, remember?”

“Yeah, after he called me Melvin Don,” Elton pouted, folding his arms across his chest.

Bernie laughed heartily. “Where the fuck did he get that from anyway?”

“I haven’t a clue, Bernie. It doesn’t even sound right together anyway, does it? Nothing like Elton John.”

Bernie, still chuckling, asked, “What’s your real name anyway? I looked you up and can’t find you anywhere.”

Elton grimaced. “Reggie Dwight.”

“I like it. It sounds like a cowboy name.” Elton raised his eyebrow. “All I wanted to be when I was growing up was a cowboy, you see.”

Elton grinned, imagining little Bernie dressed as a cowboy riding a little pony around town. “I can see that.”

“I grew up on a farm. My parents, they… Well, they still live on the farm, actually. I left about a year ago and moved here. They still try to get me to move back every time I ring them up, but I didn’t want to be a farmhand the rest of my life. Carting dead chickens back and forth didn’t sound like a good life to me. I still don’t know what I actually want from life, but that definitely wasn’t it…” Bernie shuddered theatrically. “What about you?”

“My parents wanted me to finish secondary school and go to university. Become successful at a boring desk job, marry a lovely wife, spit out two children before I turned twenty-five and perhaps adopt a dog. They had my future planned out for me before I could even walk. They never did approve of my part-time job in Bluesology either as it didn’t fit into their mold of my life, but a man’s gotta eat, you know? I did finish school for them, and I finished my first semester of my second year at Cambridge before I decided I just couldn’t be what my parents wanted me to be. I was meant to be a musician, not some desk junkie... I was at a party for New Years when I ditched my then girlfriend, went home and packed a few of my things, and ended up across the hall from you the next day. I haven’t talked to my parents since that night.”

They each opened another beer. “Why’d you leave your girlfriend?,” Bernie asked, setting the empty bottle beside the first, and opening a third beer. “I mean, I understand the leaving the parents part, but why the girlfriend?”

“I had only been dating her a couple of months and I felt nothing for her really. She was only for show at the time. I don’t even remember her name now, mate. I just… I just left her at that party and I haven’t even thought about her since.” Elton fiddled with his still full beer. “That makes me such a bad person, doesn’t it?”

“Nah, man. Not a bad bloke. An honest one,” Bernie corrected, his voice beginning to slur slightly. It had been a while since he had had more than just one beer to unwind after a particularly harsh day at the factory. He needed to slow down before he got well and properly sloshed. He did stupid things when sloshed. “I’ve never had a girlfriend before. I’m only seventeen.”

Elton almost dropped his beer. “You’re only seventeen? You told Dick you were twenty! You seem so much older!”

Bernie rolled his eyes. “Like he would have taken me seriously if he’d known my real age… I’ve always been told I’m mature for my age. That’s how I got my job. The boss told me not to tell the other blokes how old I actually was and the job was mine. It’s worked so far. The lads kind of leave me alone, sometimes take credit for what I do, but it is what it is. Been there four months now. Pays for this place, at least. I’ll be eighteen in a few months.”

“We’ll have to go celebrate. Eighteen is a big deal.”

Bernie nodded. “Sounds like fun. Just nothing too fancy. I’m not big on extravagance, and well, from what I gather, you are the queen of extravagance so…”

Elton snorted. “I like you, Bernie Taupin.”

Bernie smiled. “I like you, too, Reggie Dwight.”


	4. Chapter 4

The crowd was intense. That was the only word that came to mind when Elton stepped off the stage after his set at the Troubadour. He couldn’t believe he got through it intact. They loved him, of course, just like Raymond had assured him they would, but they were still fucking intense. He leaned against the wall, took off his eyeglasses, and pinched the bridge of his nose the moment he entered his dressing room. Could he handle this? Could he handle being centerstage, after being a backing musician for so long? How in God’s name did Long John Baldry handle this night after night? 

Oh right… He didn’t, did he…? The man was mostly drunk, and throwing microphones at the bloody crowd when they pissed him off. He probably didn’t want to take any pointers from him, did he now?

He sat at the vanity and placed his glasses back on his nose, knowing he only had a few more seconds before he would be mobbed by well wishers to get his head on straight. And he feared them. Oh, how he feared them. He had so many different emotions coursing through veins he didn’t know where to begin. 

He had seen Bernie up on the balcony with Raymond, his smile almost blinding. Elton felt his own smile spread across his face just thinking about it. He was proud of him, that much was a fact. It was a hard road getting here to this night, his opening show at the Troubadour in America, but together they had made it. 

They had grown close, Bernie and him. Closer than two men should be, according to society’s standards. When he was with Bernie he felt like he could take on the world. The soft touches, the tentative kisses of the beginning had turned into an overpowering need to become one with each other. Bernie was a dominant male, and Elton was more than happy to allow him to dominate him. Behind closed doors they were together. To the outside world, they were brothers.

The door slammed open and the hoard of people Elton had feared of entered the small dressing room. He hadn’t even had a chance to get a hold of his thoughts! Elton turned quickly, his eyes scanning the room for the only one that mattered. He jumped to his feet and jumped into Bernie’s arms.

“You were amazing! Absolutely brilliant!,” Bernie exclaimed in his ear, twirling him around as though he weighed nothing at all. He set him on his feet, caressing his cheek gently. “How do you feel, Elton?”

“A touch nauseous, actually,” Elton said with a laugh. “I can’t believe I actually did it!”

Bernie laughed with him, wrapping his arm around his shoulders. “You not only did it, but you did wonderfully, Elton. I swear, it felt like you were lifting off at one point… Everyone in America will know your name by the end of tonight, I swear it…” Elton beamed. “Let’s make some rounds, shall we? There are plenty of people who wish to chat it up with you. Have a bit of a drink? It’s your night, darling boy. Let’s make the most of it, shall we?”

And with Bernie by his side, Elton no longer felt the fear of the crowd. It no longer mattered he hadn’t gotten a handle of his thoughts. With Bernie by his side, he could conquer all that came at him.

********

“Who wants to go to a party at Mama Cass’?”

_ Not me… _

“We’re going,” Bernie whispered into Elton’s ear.

*******

“Elton, this is Heather,” Bernie said, pointing to the tall young woman standing beside him. She waved at him merrily, the cheery smile a knife in Elton’s gut.

_ But Bernie… We... _

“I’m going out to a tent with Heather.” He leaned down and whispered into Elton’s ear. “You know we have to keep up appearances right now more than ever with you in the public eye, Elton…”

_ How could you even consider going to a tent with Heather? I thought… I thought... _

_ “ _ You’ll be okay, won’t you?”

_ Of course I won’t be okay. How can I be okay when you just crushed my heart and soul. _

“Tell me the truth, mate.”

“Yeah, I’ll be okay, Bernie,” Elton replied, a forced smile on his face. 

“Good man,” Bernie said, his voice wavering, his smile more of a grimace, as he took Heather’s hand in his own. 

Elton watched him leave.

*********

Bernie looked around once more, utterly defeated. He knew the moment the tent door closed he had made the biggest mistake of his young life. He had taken her hands from his buttons, clasped her fingers in his own and apologized profusely. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t be intimate with her. He couldn’t do that to his love. 

He had spent an hour looking for Elton and finally had to come to the conclusion that he left without him. Not that he could blame him, if course. He would have left without him too if he was in Elton’s position.

He shoved his hands in the pockets of his denims and shuffled his way to where he saw Raymond last. He needed a friendly face. He needed a ride back to the hotel to make things right. He needed… He needed to be told just how wrong he was, and he needed to know how to make it right. 

Raymond was standing right where he last saw him, still in a circle of pretty birds, two of which were hanging onto him, and Bernie couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “How drunk are you?,” Bernie asked, tapping Raymond on the shoulder.

Raymond turned around, beaming. “Bernie! Good to see ya, mate! This is…”

“How drunk are you?,” Bernie interrupted, not in the mood for small talk.

Raymond sobered quickly at Bernie’s tone. “Just a wee bit. Why?”

“I made a major mistake, and Elton left. I need a ride back to the hotel to make it right, if I can even make it right. Can you help me?”

“Let me grab my jacket and meet me out front, mate. I want the full story, Bernard.” Bernie flinched at the use of his full name. Raymond only used it when he was well and truly pissed at him. “Sorry, ladies, I have to leave to deal with some personal matters.” They groaned theatrically. “It was wonderful to meet you all.” He turned to Bernie. “Why don’t you come with me, Bernard, to get my jacket? And start talking.”


End file.
